


shut your eyes and burn the past away

by grantairrible



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi, Nonbinary Grantaire, Past Drug Use, Trans Enjolras, Weddings, mentions of transpobia and homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantairrible/pseuds/grantairrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire panics when their sister insists they bring their boyfriend to the wedding, and takes Combeferre with them. The only problem? Combeferre isn't their boyfriend. Enjolras is.<br/>And Enjolras is weirdly okay with the entire situation, thousands of miles away as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shut your eyes and burn the past away

**Author's Note:**

> Please take account of the tags if drug use and alcoholism bother you in any way!! Two characters also have sex while high, although it is discussed before the act, while they were both sober. There are also brief mentions of police brutality, but there are no actual acts of violence described.
> 
> Title from Voxtrot's 'Start of Something'.

“I hope you’re bringing that boyfriend of yours, I’m still not sure you didn’t make him up.”

“He’s real, I promise.” Grantaire said, panicking when their sister let out a derisive snort.

“You’ve talked about him a bunch and he sounds too fucking perfect to be real. I’m not believing that until I see it. You’re bringing him, ‘Aire, no excuses.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Of course Elaine didn’t believe Grantaire. Of course she wouldn’t believe someone like Enjolras was dating someone like them. Grantaire could hardly believe it themself, even after all this time.

“But-”

“Seriously, R. Every single time I’ve wanted to meet him, there’s been some reason why he can’t come. If he’s not there this time, I’m calling bullshit.”

Grantaire’s heart was pounding, their palms sweating, and they felt so trapped by the conversation that they just panicked and said: “Of course he’ll be there.” Combeferre looked over at them, eyes wide, giving them a look that said _what are you doing?_ “In fact, Combeferre’s here right now, if you want to speak with him.” Immediately, Grantaire knew they had fucked up. Big time.

Combeferre shook his head frantically, but still took the phone when Grantaire handed it to him. Despite the fact that this was a phone conversation, a big fake grin still spread across his face. “Hi Elaine, this is Combeferre. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Combeferre glared at Grantaire the entire time he was on the phone to their sister, until she finally let him go, and hung up before Grantaire could even say goodbye to her.

“What the hell was that about? Need I remind you who your actual boyfriend is? Because, unless you’ve forgotten, it isn’t me.”

Grantaire winced. “I know, I’m sorry, but Enjolras is going to be away for another few weeks and she’s never going to believe that I’m dating someone unless I give her actual proof. I just panicked.”

“And you’ve never mentioned Enjolras’ actual name to her?”

“Uh…” Grantaire couldn’t meet Combeferre’s gaze. “No? You know all the nicknames I call him. And I don’t talk to her much, not after- well. I don’t talk to her that much.”

Combeferre sighed. “No wonder she doesn’t think he’s a real person. Tell you what, I’ll come along and pretend to be your boyfriend if you want, but you have to be the one to explain it to Enjolras.”

Grantaire slumped in their chair. “I really didn’t think this through.”

“Call Enjolras. Now.” Combeferre said, shaking his head. “He might want to talk to me as well.”

Grantaire winced the entire time their phone rang, half-hoping Enjolras wouldn’t pick up.

“‘Aire!” Enjolras sounded so pleased to hear them. Fuck. “I thought we were going to skype tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it, I’ve got a special surprise for you.”

Grantaire would bet on the surprise featuring lace, and not much of it. Or it could just be a straight-up naked Enjolras. God, they loved him so much. “Yeah, reserve your judgement on whether you want to see my face until I’ve told you the news.”

“What have you done?” Enjolras was weary, resigned, as though he was used to this. Grantaire winced again.

“I might have… freaked out and told my sister that I’m dating Combeferre and I’m bringing him to her wedding?” The sentence came out all in a rush.

“Oh, ‘Aire.” Enjolras sounded more concerned than disappointed. “Is that a good idea? We were going to wait until I got back to talk to him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Grantaire admitted, letting out a short, humourless laugh. “But what’s done is done, right?”

Combeferre was watching Grantaire rather than going back to his books, and after all these years Grantaire still wasn’t used to having so many people around them worried about their wellbeing.

“You don’t have to do it, Grantaire. I can come back for a few days-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Enjolras. The flight is, like, nine hours each way. It’ll be alright. Combeferre isn't going to hurt me.”

“If you’re sure. And, Grantaire… if anything happens with him, I won’t mind. We can negotiate when I get back, but I just want you to know.”

“ _Enjolras_.” Had Grantaire really just got permission to sleep with their boyfriend’s best friend if the opportunity arose? Their voice came out strangled, and Combeferre’s look of concern deepened. “I’ll let you know.”

“Please do. I’d like details. You’re very good with words, and I want to imagine everything _vividly_. Now pass me over to Combeferre, I want to talk to him.”

“Okay. Bye. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Grantaire held their phone out to Combeferre. “He wants to talk to you.”

Combeferre took the phone gingerly, as if expecting Enjolras’ righteous fury. “What-? Are you sure? But they’re _your-_ Of course I care about them, I wouldn’t- Enjolras, if you’d-” Grantaire tried not to snigger as Enjolras continually cut Combeferre off, and Combeferre became more and more confused. “I… Well, if you’re sure you’re okay with it. I really don’t see it that way, but fine. Yes, I’ll do it.” By now, Combeferre was well and truly exasperated. “Alright, alright, I’ll see you when you get back. _Yes_ , I’ll be with Grantaire at the airport. Okay, I love you too. _Goodbye, Enjolras._ ”

Combeferre stared at Grantaire for a long moment after he hung up, then burst out laughing, bordering on hysterical. “This is so bizarre.”

 

* * *

 

The wedding was to be held in the grounds of Grantaire’s childhood home, a few hours’ drive away, and they were trying to concentrate on the road to the charming province they were not keen to return to while being distracted by Combeferre’s frown as he flipped through his notes.

“Okay,” Grantaire said, after almost an hour of silence, “explain whatever you’re trying to learn in a way that even I will understand. I found it really useful when I ever actually studied, plus I’m getting kinda bored.”

“It’s pretty dry, I’m not sure you’ll find any of this entertaining.” Combeferre said, and Grantaire caught the tail end of his smile before they had to look back at the road.

Grantaire shrugged. “So make it interesting. I like learning stuff, even if it may not seem like it.”

“Grantaire, we all know you like learning stuff. I’ve seen your bookshelves.”

“So give it a shot, then.”

Combeferre sighed, and set aside his notes. “Honestly, it’s medicine, and you know I’m getting close to the pointy end of my degree. Half the time there are no layman’s terms, you need jargon to explain the jargon. But I’m getting a little carsick from looking down too much, I’ll take a break.”

“Awesome.” Grantaire watched as the scenery whizzed past them. “Art and philosophy are dragging me down right now. I’m thinking of giving it all up to become a farmer.”

“Bullshit you are, you’d hate getting up early every morning.” Combeferre said, laughing.

“Alright,” Grantaire conceded the point, even if he didn’t mention to Combeferre that they rarely slept in. It was actually Enjolras who kept them in bed most mornings, since the itch under Grantaire’s skin often won out before the night was up. “I’ll mooch off Enjolras’ inheritance, be a kept… person. Damn it, gender neutral terms fucking suck. I’m feeling the need for some linguistic diversity, I’ll have to talk to Jehan.”

“You’re right about the linguistics, I’m sure they’d jump at the chance. And you know Enjolras plans to live off as little of his inheritance as he can afford and donate the rest.”

“I know.” Grantaire screwed their face up. “He’s too damn good of a person.”

Combeferre leant across to place his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Don’t compare yourself to Enjolras. It doesn’t end well for any of us, and Enjolras isn’t as perfect as he pretends to be. You’re one of the few people he feels comfortable being vulnerable around.”

“I forget sometimes. What it was like before he let me in.”

“He loves you now.”

“He loves you too.”

“I know.” Grantaire had to concentrate while an asshole cut in front of them without indicating, and missed the chance to glance at Combeferre’s face, to see if they had just imaged the note of sadness in his voice. “But he’s not always easy to love.”

Grantaire found it easier to reconcile their personal morality with the violence that Enjolras sometimes resorted to, but Combeferre had always had trouble with it, even if it was effective. Grantaire at least agreed with Combeferre when he said it only made it worse when the police found Enjolras, when Enjolras was surrounded by cops who dragged him away and were less than careful handling him. The figurehead was so important to their movement and it would be easier for all of the officials if Enjolras’ golden words were silenced. All of them worried that Enjolras wouldn’t come back one day. That was what Grantaire struggled with - the way that Enjolras was so ready to throw himself into danger for cause after cause, when they didn’t always get results, and sometimes just got bodies. Combeferre, of course, was terrified of the same, but also panicked over the bruised knuckles and the broken bones, scrubbing away blood that his hands hadn’t spilt, like some overly moralistic Lady Macbeth. Okay, Grantaire decided, glancing over at Combeferre, that metaphor was more than a little imperfect. And yeah, they really should stop that train of thought or else they’d need to call Enjolras and make sure he was alive, halfway across the world as he was.

“You’re worrying about him again, aren’t you?”

Grantaire glanced over at Combeferre as best they could while also making sure not to crash the car. “When am I ever not worrying about Enjolras?”

Combeferre let out a weary laugh. “I’m with you on that one.”

 

* * *

 

It was lucky that Combeferre was unfairly attractive, if not to the same angelically beautiful degree as Enjolras, since Grantaire had rambled on and on about their boyfriend’s beauty. Elaine’s eyebrows raised as she took Combeferre in, and then pulled Grantaire into a tight hug.

“You did good, babe.”

Grantaire laughed. “It’s good to see you too. Now, come meet Combeferre.”

Combeferre, standing by the car, looked nervous as Grantaire wandered over to grab his hand.

“Shit.” Grantaire said. “We didn’t negotiate boundaries, did we?”

“It’s alright, I just feel like I’m betraying Enjolras a little.” Combeferre’s voice was light, but he was obviously uncomfortable, and yeah, this hadn’t been Grantaire’s greatest idea. Still, Combeferre didn’t let go of Grantaire’s hand, just squared his shoulders as the two of them faced the house.

“He won’t be mad, I promise. He knows I love him. This doesn’t change that.” Combeferre relaxed, just a little, and Grantaire squeezed his hand. “Ready for this, boyfriend?”

Combeferre sighed, and grabbed his bag. “No, not really.” He started to head towards the house without another word, clinging to Grantaire's hand.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire had never really thought of their bed at the family home as _small_ , but staring at it from the doorway, with their not-boyfriend at their side, they were kind of freaking out. Just a little. It was a double bed, so it wasn’t as though they were going to have to squish together too much, but it was certainly smaller than the queen-sized mattress that dominated about a quarter of Grantaire’s apartment, let alone Enjolras’ ridiculously indulgent king-sized bed. Not that Enjolras approved of the association between monarchy and beds, the former of which was to be despised, the latter adored. But Grantaire was getting off track, and Combeferre was starting to stare at them, concerned.

“If this isn’t okay, just tell me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.” Grantaire said, hesitantly taking a step into their old bedroom.

Combeferre followed them inside and shut the door behind him. “No, it’ll be okay. I don’t think it’s that weird to share a bed with the rest of our friends, so why should it be different now?”

_Because I’m ridiculously attracted to you and I think you might reciprocate at least a little of that feeling_ , Grantaire wanted to say, but forced a smile and dumped their bag at the end of the bed. “Who’s the worst you’ve had to share a bed with?”

Combeferre considered. “Bahorel. He takes up the entire mattress, and he cuddles in the worst way possible.”

Grantaire snorted. “Tell me about it. The man’s a furnace. I thought I was going to melt when he last crashed at my place, and it was in the middle of winter.”

“Enjolras is pretty terrible, too.” Combeferre suppressed a smile. “I’m sure you’re familiar with his incessant drooling.”

“I put up with his drooling because he puts up with my snoring. Which I’m apologising for in advance, by the way.”

“I do share an apartment with Enjolras, as you well know, and the walls are very thin. I’m accustomed to your snoring.” Combeferre said, and he was unable to hide his smile this time.

Grantaire ducked their head, blushing. If the walls were thin enough to hear their snoring, well… they hated to think what else Combeferre had overheard. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Combeferre shrugged. “Actually, that reminded me, Enjolras messaged me the other day saying he couldn’t sleep without hearing you snore. He didn’t want me to tell you, but that’s too adorable not to share.”

Grantaire’s heart melted. “He _didn’t_.”

“I promise you, he did. He really misses you, you know.”

“I miss him too.” Grantaire threw themself onto the bed, and patted the spot next to them for Combeferre to sit. “But I’ve got you guys, at least, and he’ll be home soon.”

“Come here, then.” Combeferre held out his arms, which Grantaire gratefully collapsed into. “I can’t let my... datefriend? Is that what you want to be called? Anyway, I can’t let you be sad.”

Grantaire leant their chin on Combeferre’s shoulder. “I don’t mind datefriend, but Enjolras insists on calling me his _partner_.”

Grantaire felt, rather than saw, Combeferre’s smile. “Of course he does.”

 

* * *

 

Once they had unpacked, Grantaire was co-opted by their father for decorating - _it’s nice to see that degree finding_ some _use, however small_ , he said, and Grantaire gritted their teeth as they strung up bunting - while their mother fawned over Combeferre. Grantaire couldn’t help but wonder how she would have reacted to Enjolras, who was rarely a parent’s dream, unlike Combeferre. Combeferre was _perfect_ , and Grantaire couldn’t help but wonder what would have changed in their life if they had taken Combeferre up on his offer, all those years ago. Picket fences and overachieving children seemed to be in the future for Combeferre, and Grantaire hated to wonder how they and Enjolras could ever hope to fit into that life.

_But_ , a thought that sounded alarmingly like Enjolras said, _he hasn’t chosen that, he’s part of the inner circle of a radical protest group._ And while Grantaire conceded that Combeferre was a more pacifistic individual than them or Enjolras, his situation was still far from the typical middle-class, 2.5 children in the suburbs life that Grantaire might once have imagined for him. Even so, as the small horde of guests’ children descended on the marquee, upsetting a number of half-finished decorating projects, Combeferre was soft and kind with the kids, and Grantaire noticed a number of older guests taking a shine to him as well.

Fuck, Grantaire wanted to have his babies. Not that that was biologically possible, nor would they ever want to pass on their genes, which were messed up in a whole host of ways, but maybe one day, if their arrangement with Enjolras ever included Combeferre… well, Grantaire couldn’t imagine Enjolras having the patience nor desire to carry a child, but perhaps with a surrogate…

Grantaire shook their head. The wedding was getting to them, making them all romantic and, to their horror, _clucky._  They couldn’t have that. Grantaire really hoped Combeferre hadn’t noticed their sappy expression while watching him.

There would come a day, hopefully soon, when the three of them would sit down and have a long, potentially painful chat about feelings, but that day was not today.

No, today was a day for wedding preparations, as was tomorrow, but the day after… That was going to be the day when Grantaire’s heart would officially explode, because there was a lovely, impeccably tailored suit hanging in the wardrobe of their childhood bedroom that Combeferre was going to wear for the ceremony.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire tried not to wince at the calls of _Uncle ‘Aire_. Why couldn’t people just try to explain gender to their children instead of assuming that they would never possibly be able to understand? The few kids they’d talked to about their pronouns were always receptive enough, at the very least. Besides, they weren’t even an uncle; these were all their cousins’ kids at the closest relation, so why did they have to be called a gendered term that didn’t apply to them?

Plastering a smile across their face, Grantaire turned to meet the pack of children, and gave into their pleas.

“Okay, clear a space.” Grantaire said, and kicked up into a handstand on the expanse of perfectly manicured lawn. They walked around on their hands for a while, before lowering themself down and rolling onto their feet.

“Very impressive.”

Grantaire, dusting the blades of grass of their hands, glanced over their shoulder to find Combeferre standing there, similarly surrounded by a group of children. They shrugged. “I used to be able to do much more impressive stuff, but it’s been a few years and this isn’t a sprung floor.”

“I still couldn’t hope to do that.”

Grantaire grinned. “Come here, then, and I’ll teach you some of the tricks of the trade.” Combeferre was reasonably strong, if the muscles visible through his rolled-up shirtsleeves were anything to go by, but he shook his head. “I don’t think I’m wearing the right clothes for gymnastics.”

“Just one handstand. I’ll catch you.”

Combeferre sighed, but lifted his arms above his head, and Grantaire raised their own arms in time to catch Combeferre’s legs as they thudded against them.

“Nice one. Hold it steady through your core.”

Combeferre let out a breathless laugh as he failed to hold it any longer and tumbled onto the grass. His face was red, glasses askew, and Grantaire had to take a moment to take in the beauty of Combeferre’s polished perfection all mussed and grass-stained. Grantaire reached out a hand to help him up, and tried not to swallow too obviously at the sensation of Combeferre’s fingers curling around theirs.

“We’ll make a gymnast out of you yet.”

Combeferre laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think not.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Combeferre said, with a smile that made Grantaire’s heart pound in their chest.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Grantaire’s father had never accepted their gender or sexuality, and spent the entire meal ignoring them and Combeferre, while their mother just drank glass after glass of wine.

Grantaire had inherited a lot of their personality traits from their mother.

It was hard to see her like this, and not know what to say to her. Of course they wouldn’t say anything here in public, but would it be okay for them to pull her aside and talk about their concern? After all, they had ignored her worries when they were descending into far worse addiction to more dangerous substances, but they hadn’t touched anything for years now. Should they offer their help? Or would that just be rubbing their success in her face?

Grantaire wasn’t even sure that their mother even acknowledged her addiction. They wouldn’t be surprised if they talked to her about it, and she would say, _it’s only a bit of wine, dear._

Obviously Combeferre noticed something going on inside Grantaire’s mind, and reached across to take their hand, giving it a little squeeze. They looked over at him and offered him a smile. If they were going to talk to their mum, they would at least wait until after the wedding. Now was not the time.

“You alright?”

Grantaire shrugged, and their hand was squeezed again.

“You want to get away from this?”

“Please.”

 

* * *

 

The two of them stole dessert from the kitchen and took it out to the gardens, where they sat under the newly erected fairy lights. They didn’t speak; the only sounds were the clink of spoon hitting bowl as they ate, and screeching cicadas, occasionally interrupted by the hum of a moth flying too close, or the whine of a mosquito.

Combeferre sighed, once he finished his ice cream, and lay back on the grass. “This is nice.”

Grantaire joined him. “It is?”

“Well,” Combeferre turned onto his side to face Grantaire, “ _This_ as in this little part of the whole wedding, right here and right now. I’ve yet to decide on the rest of it.”

Grantaire hummed. “Yeah, this is nice. I could sleep out here.”

“Probably not the best idea, especially when there’s a perfectly serviceable bed inside.”

“Let’s just stay out here a little longer. We can stargaze.”

Combeferre, never one to turn down a good chance to look at the stars, rolled onto his back, and laced his fingers with Grantaire’s. They took it in turns to point out constellations and recount myths they both knew, until Combeferre fell asleep. Grantaire stared at him for a long moment, taking in the softness of his face, relaxed in repose, before waking him up and dragging him to bed. The size of the mattress didn’t seem like such a problem now as they curled up together, already well on their way to sleep before their heads even hit the pillows.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke and, half asleep, instinctively pressed closer to kiss Enjolras, their lips grazing along his neck, his jaw. Grantaire paused. Enjolras didn’t have facial hair, or at least not enough to grow stubble.

_Oh,_ _shit_.

Grantaire opened their eyes, faced with skin darker than Enjolras’, and realised that they should have noticed that the legs tangled with theirs were longer than their own, far too long to belong to their boyfriend.

“You thought I was Enjolras, didn’t you?”

Grantaire extricated themself from Combeferre. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I figured.” Combeferre sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I can’t do this, Grantaire.”

“I’m sorry. I fucked up, as usual.”

“It’s not you, it’s…” Combeferre turned away from Grantaire. “I can’t keep my feelings separate. I can’t have this, knowing it’s not real. You know how I feel about you, and I know you don’t reciprocate those feelings. It’s fine. I got used to it years ago.”

Grantaire stared at Combeferre. “What on earth are you talking about? I’ve had a massive crush on you for _years_ , Combeferre. Dating Enjolras hasn’t changed that in the slightest.”

“But you turned me down. I told you how I feel, and you didn’t feel the same way.” Combeferre’s brow was furrowed, and he was fidgeting with the covers, still unable to meet Grantaire’s gaze though he’d turned back to face them. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”

Grantaire struggled not to laugh hysterically. “Combeferre, that was nearly five years ago. I was a mess then. Like, I don’t think you understand how bad it was. I was attracted to Enjolras then because I knew we would destroy each other since we were both in really terrible places. And then you came along, and you were all button down shirts and knitted jumpers and neat hair - you were _perfect_ , basically - and I was- I was giving Joly panic attacks because I wouldn’t come home at night and he was terrified he was only going to find my body in the morning. I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

Combeferre was looking at Grantaire now. “I’m so sorry. I knew things were bad, but… I’m glad you made it through that. Does that mean when you went away-”

“I was in rehab. Yeah.”

“I’m going to hug you now, if that’s alright?”

Grantaire nodded, and then Combeferre’s arms were around them, and damn it, they were crying.

There was way more Grantaire wanted to talk about with Combeferre, to clear up literal years of misunderstanding, but they didn’t want to even think about more emotionally difficult stuff while the wedding was still on. Instead, Grantaire guided the two of them down to the pillows and just lay there in Combeferre’s embrace, and that was enough.

 

* * *

 

When Grantaire woke for the second time that morning, this time at an actually reasonable hour, they were still pressed up against Combeferre, and Combeferre was hard where Grantaire’s thigh had slipped between his.

“I want to kiss you. Properly, this time.” Grantaire murmured, and Combeferre, already tense, completely froze.

“But Enjolras-”

Grantaire struggled not to nuzzle at Combeferre’s neck. “Enjolras gave me permission, if anything happened between us.”

“We should talk about this.”

Grantaire groaned. Now was not the time to talk. “If it’s about navigating consent, I’m keen, but I’m not ready for the feelings conversation. Enjolras needs to be here for that.”

“But there is a conversation about feelings to be had?” Combeferre sat up to grab the water bottle he’d packed. Grantaire hoped that was an effort to diminish morning breath, and took a swig themself when offered.

“Yes. Can I kiss you now?”

Combeferre didn’t answer, just leant down until their lips brushed. “You can do more than kiss me.”

Grantaire was rarely an optimist, but they had been optimistic about the potential for sex, however outlandish that hope had seemed, and as such had brought supplies. They were too desperate to touch Combeferre, to feel his body against theirs, though, to warrant digging out lube and condoms, knowing that this wasn’t going to last long. Combeferre pulled off his top, and Grantaire kind of wanted to lick his abs, but now was not the time, so Grantaire just took off their own shirt, and then their boxers, tossing them on the floor moments before Combeferre’s followed suit. It was frantic, hurried, and before they even knew what was happening, Grantaire was guiding Combeferre’s body down on top of theirs, unable to think of anything but Combeferre. All they could do was gasp and rut against him, eliciting the most beautiful sounds. They would have been self-conscious about how quickly they were going to come, but Combeferre’s breath was coming equally as fast, his thrusts against Grantaire just as wild. It was all too much, and Grantaire spilled over, followed soon after by Combeferre, both of their bodies streaked with their release.

The two of them were sticky and sweaty, and a shower would definitely be needed, but Grantaire really just wanted to bask in their afterglow. They also didn’t have an en suite, and didn’t particularly feel like bumping into someone on the way to the bathroom right now, especially if they were lucky and Combeferre decided to tag along.

“Was that okay for you?” Combeferre asked after a while, and Grantaire’s heart threatened to burst from their chest. Combeferre was too damn considerate.

“That was _so good_.” Grantaire said, unable to wipe away their satisfied grin.

"That wasn't how I meant it, but I'm pleased to hear that, nonetheless." Combeferre met Grantaire's look with an equally pleased little smile that was frankly adorable, and yeah. Grantaire was definitely gone on him.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was spent in a blur of preparations, and before Grantaire knew it, they were sitting down to have dinner again. It was a much more pleasant affair, with Combeferre lowering his gaze and possibly blushing - his skin was too dark to tell - every time Grantaire glanced at him. Grantaire’s father still ignored them, but it was bearable this time with Combeferre at their side. Even so, the atmosphere wasn’t entirely _warm_ , so they slipped away before dessert was served, although this time Grantaire was smart enough to grab a couple of blankets on the way. They sat there with Combeferre, one blanket spread on the grass, another draped over their shoulders, and were silent as they ate.

Combeferre shivered as he set his bowl aside, and Grantaire immediately pressed closer, sharing their body heat.

“Oh,” Combeferre said, as Grantaire leant their head on his shoulder. “Are we-?”

“You tell me.”

“But Enjolras-”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire was tempted to lift their chin just so, to press a kiss to Combeferre’s neck, “would be very jealous of me right now.”

“Oh,” Combeferre said, again. His eyes were wide. “I’m still getting my head around all of this. Can we just look at the stars again? For now?”

Grantaire was only happy to oblige, and found themself lying closer to Combeferre than last night, practically plastered to his side. Combeferre was reciting some myth or other that Grantaire already knew, but the timbre of his voice was pleasant to listen to in and of itself, and they traced patterns over the blanket, over the grass, over Combeferre’s beautiful hands, along those elegant fingers of his. Combeferre paused, glancing over in surprise when Grantaire shifted their grip and laced their fingers together. The expression on his face, lit by the soft glow of lanterns and fairy lights, looked frighteningly close to love. For this moment, Grantaire allowed themself to pretend, and to hope.

 

* * *

 

“I want Enjolras to know what happened between us.” Combeferre said later that night, as the two of them lay curled around each other in bed. “I know you said he wouldn’t mind, and I don’t regret any of it, but I feel like he should know.”

Grantaire nodded. “That sounds fair. He’d love to know; he asked me to share the details with him. I’m sure he’ll be jealous.”

“Of whom?” Of course Combeferre was one of those people who said _whom._ Nerd.

“Both of us.” Grantaire dug in their bag to pull out their laptop. It was nearing one in the morning, which meant it would be around seven in the evening in New York, and hopefully Enjolras would be at home and available to talk.

Combeferre got up to flick on the light, and Grantaire had connected through to Enjolras by the time he made it back to the bed. Enjolras was only wearing one of Grantaire’s t-shirts, too long and loose on his smaller frame, and a pair of lacy underwear. Grantaire knew Combeferre shared an apartment with Enjolras and had seen him wearing less, but they hid a grin upon seeing that this was still enough to make Combeferre swallow and glance away.

“Combeferre has something to tell you, babe,” Grantaire said without preamble, glancing over at Combeferre. “Right, ‘Ferre?”

“Yes. I might have…” Combeferre cleared his throat, “...slept with your partner.” Grantaire had to hand it to him - he’d really just come right out and said it, no skirting around the issue. It must have been really bothering him. Not for the first time that weekend, Grantaire felt guilty.

Enjolras eyes widened, and Grantaire was fully prepared to intervene at the signs of Combeferre’s imminent descent into panic.

“Well, how was it? Are you going to do it again? _Can I watch?”_

Combeferre spluttered, and looked to Grantaire for help, but they only responded with a shit-eating grin. “It was amazing. I’d like to do it again, if Grantaire does. And I- I’d be very, very happy to let you watch.”

“Uh. Yeah. I want to.” Grantaire’s voice came out squeaky, but they barely cared because _holy shit_.

“Now?” Enjolras was breathless, already reaching up to pull off his t-shirt.

Combeferre nodded, and kissed Grantaire.

This was happening. This was actually happening. Grantaire didn’t know where to look - at Combeferre, who was slipping his hands under their boxers to slide them off, or at Enjolras, shirtless and scarred and beautiful, touching himself through his underwear.

Grantaire lost track of everything at the feel of Combeferre’s hand around their cock, their eyes fluttering shut. Combeferre had only just begun touching them, and they already felt like they were going to come at any moment. They forced their eyes open, so they could watch Combeferre concentrate on jerking them off, could watch Enjolras slide off his underwear, rubbing lazy circles over his clit.

“Fuck.” Grantaire breathed. Combeferre was going to start having _ideas_ about their stamina, because once again they were going to come at the barest of touches, overwhelmingly aroused by the sensations surrounding them.

“You’re so-” Enjolras broke off with a moan, “-attractive, the both of you.”

Combeferre looked up from where he had been concentrating on Grantaire, and froze. Grantaire was glad for the brief respite. “ _Enjolras.”_

Enjolras grinned at the attention, and moaned Combeferre’s name in response.

Grantaire took Combeferre’s shock at the debauched sound as their opportunity to take him by surprise, and flipped them over on the bed.

“Can I suck you off?” Grantaire asked, purposefully pitching their voice lower, huskier.

“Fuck yes _._ ”

That was all the consent Grantaire needed, and dug through their bag hurriedly for a condom. After an age, they finally, _finally_ , found one, and before they could even pause to think, they were rolling it on and closing their mouth around Combeferre’s cock. It had been a while, but the actions came back to Grantaire easily, and their lack of a gag reflex always meant that they were naturally inclined towards blowjobs, regardless of technique. Technique flew out of the window here anyway, Combeferre bucking his hips up as Grantaire took him into their throat, and it was quite possibly the sloppiest blowjob Grantaire had ever given. It was effective enough, apparently, since Combeferre spilled over minutes after Grantaire started blowing him, and then all of a sudden they were flipping over again so Combeferre could jerk Grantaire off, quick and rough. Apparently Combeferre wasn’t one for basking in the afterglow when there was someone else to get off.

Grantaire had forgotten how good quick and rough could feel: Enjolras was more inclined towards submissiveness in bed out of the two of them, and so it had been a while since Grantaire had been the one on the receiving end of harsher sex.

Grantaire managed to keep watching Enjolras as he brought himself closer and closer to release, in tandem with their own building orgasm, until the synchronism broke, and they were coming without him, and they couldn’t keep their eyes open for that one long, glorious moment.

“You gonna come for us, babe?” Grantaire panted out, boneless, watching Enjolras, whose thighs were trembling with the effort of kneeling on the bed to put on a show as he masturbated.

“Yeah.” It was the only full word Enjolras could manage before his body arched, coming apart as he moaned and shook around his own fingers. He made a small noise, and Grantaire wasn’t sure if it was _‘Ferre_ , or _‘Aire_. Either way, it was really fucking hot.

The three of them lay there in almost-silence watching each other, the only noise their panting as they all tried to catch their breath.

“What does this mean?” Combeferre asked eventually, one of Grantaire’s legs slung over his. Enjolras was already toying with himself again.

“We’ll figure it out.” Enjolras promised. “I’ll be back soon, and we… Well, as long as there’s a _we_ , we’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Combeferre voice was soft. Grantaire was almost asleep, and barely registered the quiet conversation.

Grantaire woke again to a dark room, computer off, Combeferre wiping the half-dried come off their stomach and tucking them under the covers.

“Night, ‘Ferre.” The words were clumsy in their mouth, but it seemed very important they say them.

Combeferre kissed Grantaire’s temple. “Goodnight, Grantaire.”

 

* * *

 

Enjolras moaned as Grantaire fucked him into the mattress, head thrown back, the almost sickly pale brown of his throat mottled with bruises.

Enjolras’ pupils were blown wide when his eyes opened, and Grantaire was sure theirs were equally dilated, coke and whatever else thrumming through their veins, making them feel alive for once.

The antidepressants were forgotten on their bedside table at home. Nothing worked as well as this old routine: get off their head with drugs, then rip out everything that mattered in sex with Enjolras. The text had come from Enjolras in the morning, and Grantaire had later made their way over to his apartment with the drugs. The promise of the twinned releases had been enough for Grantaire to make it through the day.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Enjolras hissed, clawing marks up Grantaire’s back. They gave themself over to the pain and the pleasure, trackmarks and half-healed scars lining their arms and thighs.

It was awful and wonderful, and everything would be worse in the morning, but for the moment Grantaire was present in their own body, as they almost never were. They weren’t okay, and neither was Enjolras: both of them were fucked up beyond belief, but they were surviving this any way they could. It didn’t matter if it was unhealthy; they were both more concerned with wanting to live at all.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire, thankfully, woke before dream-them came, so they didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of having a wet dream despite being comfortably into their twenties, let alone while sharing the bed with someone else. Combeferre blinked awake at the movement, and reflexively held out an arm.

“You okay?” His voice was slow from sleep, not as articulate as usual, and Grantaire immediately snuggled up to him.

“Just a dream. Well, a memory. But that part of my life is over.” They’d been off everything for a few years now, after a couple of relapses. The strangest thing to remain after that period of their life was their bond with Enjolras. The two of them had been through hell together, and although their initial attraction was because they were absolutely awful for each other, they recovered and grew stronger together. After a break, to make sure that they could function independently, the two of them had been together ever since.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Or Enjolras.”

“You were there, but neither of us wanted to let anyone else in. It’s okay.”

Combeferre kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “You’re incredible, both of you, for making it through that and being who you are today.”

“I’m still pretty fucked up.” Grantaire’s lips were almost brushing Combeferre’s neck as they breathed the words. “Much better than I was, but my brain chemistry has always been shitty.”

“All of us are a little bit fucked up.”

“A-fucking-men.” Grantaire mumbled the words, and then the room was silent as the two of them drifted off into blissfully dreamless sleep. It didn’t even occur to Grantaire in what way perfect, pristine Combeferre might be a little bit fucked up. The thought that he was as flawed as any of them would have been a comfort, really. Grantaire had seen Enjolras in a similarly faultless light, at first - the godlike beauty, up on his pedestal as leader of the revolution. How quickly Grantaire had been disabused of that notion. They weren’t even awake enough to register such thoughts, and only noticed one thing: how far they’d come. There was a stark difference between peacefully falling asleep next to someone they loved, and rough, high sex that ended with slamming doors and coming down alone.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke the next morning to the sound of Combeferre almost falling over, and cracked open an eye to find Combeferre grimacing and peeling last night’s condom off the floorboards.

“Sorry about that.” Grantaire said, barely hiding a yawn.

Combeferre looked over at them, and immediately his expression softened. He shrugged. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Grantaire stretched languorously, well aware of Combeferre watching them. “What time is it?”  
“Just after seven.”

“Ugh.” Grantaire planted their face in their pillow for a long moment, then sighed and started getting out of bed. “I’m up, I’m up.”

Combeferre laughed. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Grantaire said, then crossed the room and went up on their tiptoes to kiss Combeferre. “Morning breath, sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Combeferre paused, and then grimaced. “That much.”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire was really, really glad that Combeferre was as punctual as ever, dressing in his suit a couple of hours before the ceremony began. Because they really, really needed that time to adjust to the beauty in front of them, and they didn’t want to spend the entirety of their sister’s wedding gobsmacked by how incredibly hot Combeferre was.

Grantaire made some kind of strangled noise when they first saw him standing there in that suit, and it took all their willpower not to ask if it was okay for them to tear it off him. Combeferre had smiled shyly at the attention, and bit his lip.

“You like the suit?”

“ _Like_ is the most egregious of understatements.”

Combeferre turned away at that, embarrassed, and started fixing his hair in the mirror, giving Grantaire a lovely view of the way those tailored pants perfectly fitted the curve of his ass.

Grantaire wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through the day with Combeferre walking around looking like _that._

“Your butt looks _really good_ in those pants.” Grantaire really, really hadn’t meant to say that. What the fuck was wrong with them? “Fuck, I didn’t-”

Combeferre started laughing, a breathless, full-body _giggle_ that made Grantaire feel like they were curled in front of a fireplace, drinking hot chocolate. Even Enjolras’ laugh hadn’t been this unexpected. “ _Grantaire._ ”

“Don’t look at me, I’m an idiot.” Grantaire covered their face with their hands. “I’m just going to crawl away and hide.”

“Come on,” Combeferre said, dragging away Grantaire’s hands to kiss him. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was cute, and here,” His hands guided Grantaire’s down, until Grantaire was _actually touching_ that mythical backside. Grantaire was too terrified of crumpling Combeferre’s pants to actually _do_ anything with the incredible power that had suddenly been placed in their hands, although they did appreciate the closeness of their bodies.

“This is nice.” Combeferre said, slipping his arms around Grantaire’s shoulders.

Grantaire, raising their grip from Combeferre’s butt to his waist, agreed.

“Will you promise…” Combeferre was quiet, and he didn’t meet Grantaire’s gaze. “Whatever happens when we get back, that we can have more of this, at least?”

Grantaire blinked. “What, more hugs?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.” Grantaire held Combeferre closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Combeferre just sighed in response, and Grantaire felt his lips brush over their forehead.

 

* * *

 

“Oh.”

Grantaire looked up at Combeferre, self-consciously tugging on their suit jacket. “What?”

“I…” Combeferre swallowed. “I understand your reaction before.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, though. You’re very attractive.”

“I know for certain that I’m not. I’ve been told enough times.”

Combeferre frowned at them. “What are you talking about? Enjolras always-”

“That’s Enjolras.” Grantaire interrupted. “That’s just, like, his weird quirk.”

“Whatever the reason, I think you’re beautiful.”

“Okay, I’m going to kiss you now.” _I love you_ , Grantaire thought, but now wasn’t the time, and Enjolras wasn’t here. So they just kissed Combeferre, and hoped that he knew. From the smile he gave them, Grantaire thought that maybe Combeferre was finally cottoning on to the fact that his feelings were actually reciprocated. Just maybe.

 

* * *

 

“So you two made up after whatever weird fight you were having?”

Grantaire frowned as they helped Elaine adjust the train of her dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit you don’t. You and Combeferre were being all weird and cold when you first got here, but it seems like you’re both getting on alright now. I hope I didn’t put a strain in your relationship by insisting he come here, but I didn’t think I was ever going to meet him otherwise.” Elaine’s eyes were wide and beseeching, and Grantaire immediately softened.

“It’s not your fault. I was an idiot about some stuff, but it’s okay now.”

Elaine smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair out of the way. “I’m glad. We’re all so proud of you, R.”

“Thanks.” Grantaire swallowed past the lump in their throat. “I’m pretty happy with how things are going now. But enough about me, it’s your big day. I’m going to lose my big sister to Nate the neanderthal.”

Elaine swatted their arm, but laughed. “ _Do not_ let him hear you call him that.”

“I notice you didn’t ask me not to call him Nate the neanderthal.”

“Just because I appreciate it doesn’t mean he will.” She laughed again, and Grantaire laughed along with her. Things had been strained between them, when Grantaire had refused her help with their drug addiction and then all contact with their family, but it was better now. They were healing.

Grantaire placed a kiss to their sister’s cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup, and took her hand. “Are you ready for this?”

“No.” Elaine said, but stood up. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The wedding was beautiful. Elaine cried, and Grantaire cried, and Combeferre held their hand the entire way through the ceremony. They had to disentangle themself to make a speech, but shortly after, Combeferre was standing as close to them as possible without being indecent while they swayed together on the dancefloor.

“I-” Combeferre broke off, and sighed. “Thank you, Grantaire.”

Grantaire knew what he was really trying to say, what he wanted to say, and they wanted to say those words back to him, but the timing wasn’t right. Would the timing ever be right? “I should be thanking you.”

They danced until the small hours of the morning, and then spent even more time sitting on the manicured lawn together, barely speaking, until it was too late to form coherent sentences, and they tumbled into bed. Exhausted, it was all Grantaire could do to strip down to their boxers and kiss Combeferre before sleep claimed them, dreams full of soft touches from hazy forms, a pleasant departure from memories of years they didn’t care to recall.

 

* * *

 

Returning to Paris was strange. Combeferre and Grantaire, in the absence of Enjolras, had still yet to define whatever it was that existed between them. Even so, neither was in doubt that there was something there.

“I guess I’ll see you soon.” Grantaire said awkwardly, standing outside Combeferre’s apartment. “Combeferre-”

“Won’t you come in?” Combeferre asked.

Grantaire paused. “One second.” Combeferre frowned as Grantaire turned back to their car, but it transformed into a gentle smile once it was clear that they were only grabbing their bags. “Can’t let someone steal my laptop.”

Combeferre offered a hand, standing in the doorway, which Grantaire took. “Do you have to go home soon? Can’t we pretend-”

Grantaire raised up on their tiptoes to kiss Combeferre. “We don’t have to pretend anything. I’ll have to grab more of my meds and stuff at some point, but I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

This was Enjolras’ home too, and seeing his belongings made Grantaire miss him with a physical ache. It was strange, being here without Enjolras, but it didn’t feel wrong. Not when Combeferre was clinging to Grantaire’s hand like that, their fingers intertwined.

“I just want to sleep.” Grantaire admitted, running a hand through their hair. “You don’t have to join me, but-”

“I’ll read if I can’t sleep, I don’t mind.” Combeferre was quick to respond. “I have a book light, so it’s not going to keep you awake if I do.”

“This is going to sound weird,” Grantaire said, glancing at the door which they had expected to be firmly shut, but of course it wasn’t, of course Combeferre regularly dusted and kept it clean for Enjolras’ return, “But can we sleep in Enjolras’ bed? I don’t know if it will even smell like him, but I just… I miss him. A lot.”

“If you don’t think he’d mind me being there. I know you sleeping in his bed wouldn’t bother him, but me…”

Grantaire hadn’t even paused to consider that while they had been continually reaffirming their interest in Combeferre, Enjolras hadn’t been there to do the same. The thought that Combeferre, of all people, would doubt something so blindingly obvious came as a shock. “He wouldn’t mind. He’d like it, I think.”

Something flashed in Combeferre’s eyes, and Grantaire just wanted Enjolras to be home so they could discuss this, figure it all out, without distractions or miscommunications or room for doubt. Just the three of them together, as they should have been for years.

But no. Grantaire hadn’t been right for Combeferre all those years ago, and Combeferre hadn’t been right for Grantaire. Now Grantaire ached for soft contentment and fulfilling relationships, if with a dash of fire and blood on occasion in the form of protests. When Combeferre had first shown interest in them, all that mattered was pain, and stopping the pain, and stopping the emptiness that filled them - and what an oxymoron that was - when the pain went away. They had been certain that all Combeferre wanted to do was fix them, that all he saw was the broken shell of Grantaire, not the ember buried deep down that was struggling to stay alight.

Grantaire had been self-destructive, but there had always been a part of them that wanted to survive, and it had won out. Now, after years of them and Enjolras burning each other out and building each other back up, Grantaire was in the right place for this.

“Come to bed.” Grantaire said, letting all the kindness they wanted to show Combeferre flood into their voice. “Don’t worry about it, don’t think about it. Just be with me, for a little while.”

“Okay,” Combeferre said. He dropped his bag down next to the couch. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

After that first night, they stayed in Combeferre’s room. Grantaire had expected to go back to their own apartment after a couple of days, once Combeferre was sure that whatever was developing between them was real and sustainable, and hadn’t just emerged while they were pretending to date. But Combeferre asked them to stay, and it was so easy to fall into a routine with him.

Grantaire would rise early, to the surprise of Combeferre those first few days, and then potter around the kitchen, getting breakfast and coffee ready. Combeferre, who didn’t like to sleep in quite as late as Enjolras, would wake in time to share breakfast with Grantaire, and then clean the dishes while Grantaire showered and got ready for the day. Occasionally, the two of them would share a shower, but that only tended to happen on the weekends, when they weren’t in a hurry. Once Grantaire was ready, they always left with a kiss from Combeferre, and went off to work while Combeferre stayed at the apartment working on assignments, or left shortly after Grantaire for work or class. They would both come home at different times, but always before seven if they weren’t working, to be able to skype Enjolras while he was on his lunch break. They ate dinner together whenever they could, and worked away at their separate projects throughout the evening, occasionally curling up to watch a documentary or sci fi movie, of which Combeferre was extremely fond.

Grantaire didn’t know what to tell any of their friends, so they just didn’t say anything, although Joly and Bossuet knew they were hiding something, because they could always tell when something was up with Grantaire.

“You can tell us, if you want. You don’t have to, but we won’t tell anyone.” Bossuet said, one afternoon, as they were sitting in the Musain together.

“I know.” Grantaire said, smiling down at their cup of coffee. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know what’s going on.”

“Things are alright with Enjolras, though?” Joly looked concerned, and then relieved as Grantaire nodded.

“You guys know better than most that you can have feelings for more than one person.”

“Combeferre, then?”

Grantaire nodded. “It’s still very new. We’re waiting for Enjolras to get back before we make anything concrete.”

Bossuet grinned, pulling Grantaire into a hug. “We’re so happy for you. And you can talk to us, if you need any tips. It can hard, but it’s worth it.”

 

* * *

 

And then, after so many weeks of waiting, Enjolras was home.

Courfeyrac couldn’t come with them to pick Enjolras up from the airport, and Grantaire was kind of glad - they didn’t really want anyone else knowing about the three of them before they knew what was going on themself. Joly and Bossuet knew, of course, but they had guessed, since they knew Grantaire better than they knew themself.

Combeferre was nervous and jittery, shifting around and checking the time on his phone every couple of minutes while they waited for Enjolras to get through customs.

“Hey,” Grantaire said, and slipped their hand into Combeferre’s, “You okay?”

Combeferre glanced down at their joined hands and swallowed. “Do you think Enjolras will…” He broke off, and bit his lip.

“Will what?” God, Grantaire had missed that voice.

The two of them turned to find an exhausted and rumpled-looking Enjolras clutching a massive suitcase. His eyes flickered to their joined hands, and a grin slowly spread across his face.

Grantaire couldn’t help it; they launched themself at Enjolras, throwing their arms around him and holding him tight to their body. “I missed you so much.”

Enjolras pulled away, just enough so that he could kiss Grantaire. And kiss them again and again, lips touching every inch of Grantaire’s face he could reach. “I missed you too.” He lifted his chin so he could see Combeferre over Grantaire’s shoulder. “And I missed you.”

Combeferre held out his arms, which Enjolras happily folded into, once Grantaire let him go.

“I missed you too, Enjolras.”

Enjolras let his hand follow the curve of Combeferre’s neck, cupping the back of his head. “Can I kiss you?”

Combeferre blinked, shocked, but nodded, and Grantaire watched on without jealousy as their boyfriend kissed his best friend. Enjolras was up on his tiptoes, stretching higher than he had to when kissing Grantaire, and Grantaire felt warmth kindling in their chest.

Once the kiss finished - and it was a rather drawn out kiss - Combeferre grabbed Enjolras’ suitcase. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

After his long overnight flight, it quickly became apparent that Enjolras was exhausted, and he simply flopped on various surfaces around his and Combeferre’s apartment for the rest of the day, occasionally on Combeferre or Grantaire themselves, pliant and sleepy.

“Okay,” Grantaire said, after Enjolras fell asleep standing up for the third time, “Let’s go to bed.”

“Goodnight, then.” Combeferre didn’t move from where he was sitting at the table, just raised his eyes to look at the two of them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t be silly.” Enjolras’ voice was quiet and slurred from exhaustion. “You’re coming too.”

“Oh.” Combeferre swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Enjolras held an arm out. “C’mere.”

Combeferre made his way over to them, and allowed Enjolras to pull him close.

“I love you.” Enjolras’ face was smooshed into Combeferre’s chest, but it was nigh impossible to mishear those words.

“I love you too, Enjolras.” Combeferre said the words back quietly, as if they held more weight than when he usually said them. Enjolras, in response, split into a dopey smile. “Okay, definitely bed time.”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke up twined around Enjolras, and all was right with the world again. Well, right enough, since they were plastered to Enjolras’ back, while Enjolras himself was clinging tightly to Combeferre.

And what a picture those two made together. Scratch _right enough_ , things were more than alright. Things were amazing.

Enjolras let out a small, pleased humming noise as Grantaire shifted behind him. Unable to resist, Grantaire brushed away Enjolras’ hair and kissed the exposed line of his throat. Enjolras let out a sigh that was more akin to a moan, and Grantaire locked eyes with a suddenly awake Combeferre.

“I can-”

“Stay, if you want.” Enjolras bit back another moan as Grantaire’s lips continued their path down his neck. “Please.”

Combeferre, helpless, sank back onto the bed. Enjolras practically leapt on him the second he hit the covers, and Grantaire happily settled back to watch as the loves of their life proceeded to fuck each other in front of them.

 

* * *

 

“I could get used to this.”

They were all sitting together around the table in various states of undress, hair damp, having tried to shower away the evidence of several rounds of sex - and while the shower was generously proportioned, with two luxurious nozzles, it wasn’t really meant for three people, so they weren’t as clean as they could have been. Afterwards, reluctant to leave each other’s company, they made breakfast together, which they were now eating, to varying degrees of success, as knees bumped under the table and smiles were exchanged, whether smug or shy or flirtatious.

Enjolras, radiating pure contentment, looked at Grantaire. “Maybe you should.”

“So you two want to… You want me?” Combeferre somehow, even after all of this, looked uncertain, and Grantaire barely refrained from rolling their eyes.

“And I thought you were smart. I’d say something about reading between the lines, but I think we’ve been pretty clear in our interest in you.”

Combeferre swallowed. “You should know I’ve been in love with both of you for an embarrassingly long time.”

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about.” Enjolras laid a hand over Combeferre’s. “Both of us have had a lot of shit to deal with, and we were planning on having this conversation once I got back anyway. It just took us a while for us to know that we - both as individuals, and as a couple - were ready to pursue feelings that I think we all know we had.”

“I thought, since it had been so long, that you knew about my feelings, and that you didn’t reciprocate them.”

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said, “that we didn’t make that clearer from earlier on. I am in love with you, and Enjolras is in love with you, and we would really like it if you would be our boyfriend.”

“P _artner._ ” Enjolras interjected, and then paused. “Can you have more than one partner, or does it imply a relationship between two people?”

Combeferre grinned, uncaring of semantics. “I- _yes,_ of course. To if I want to date you. My brain isn’t letting me think about something so insignificant as words right now.”

“Oh.” Enjolras’ answering smile was small, almost shy. “Good.”

Grantaire groaned. “Stop being cute, both of you. I may explode.”

 

* * *

 

Unable to let their boyfriends out of their sight just yet, Grantaire went with Enjolras and Combeferre when they left to catch up with Courfeyrac, who still hadn’t seen Enjolras despite the man in question having been in the country for almost twenty-four hours.

“Oh my _goodness_.” Courfeyrac immediately shot out of his seat. “You finally got your shit together.”

Grantaire had no idea how Courfeyrac knew, since they weren’t holding hands or anything, but Courfeyrac always knew.

“Tell me everything.” Courfeyrac said, practically bouncing in his seat.

Grantaire sent Combeferre a look, unsure how much of this story they were meant to share. Enjolras, the traitor, ignored their silent conversation.

“So I was still in New York, but I get this call from Grantaire…”

Grantaire was going to kill their boyfriend. One of them, at least. But then under the table, Combeferre slipped a hand into theirs, and Enjolras sent them a blinding smile as he recounted some detail from the story they had already lost track of. And Grantaire knew why they hadn’t done this before, but they were sure as fuck glad that the three of them were here together now. It would take hard work in the future, sure, but for now they were exploring each other, and it was all so easy and natural.

Tuning back into the story, Grantaire blushed as Enjolras recounted how they had managed to get into the entire mess. It hadn’t been their finest hour, that was for sure, but it had sure as hell paid off. Any ridicule - and there would be a lot of it, because their friends were utter shits - would be entirely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, I'm willowveild on tumblr if you'd like to come say hi :)


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